


Russian Lullabies

by cmk418



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anti-Lockout Squee Fest, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, KHL, NHL Lockout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 10:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmk418/pseuds/cmk418
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ilya gets some help from a friend as he deals with the aftermath of Vladimir's concussion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Russian Lullabies

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction inspired by real events.

He was starting to wear a path in the carpet from the pacing. Back and forth, outside the door to the guest room where Vladimir was resting. Ilya wasn’t sure that letting him rest too long was good for him. Yes, the doctors said he would be fine, but the doctors didn’t know everything and concussions were a tricky business.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he stopped, reaching for it. A glance at the display showed it was Geno. “I just heard. How is the boy?”

“I don’t know, Zhenya. He’s here, not in hospital, so that is good.”

“Good for hospital. Not so good for you.”

“I want him here.”

“Of course. But you worry worse than grandmother.”

“I didn’t see it. One minute he was scoring a goal, looking happy. The next, he was not there. I saw his eyes as he went off. Hard for him to focus. Hard for me to focus.”

“He will pull through.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t. But I know him and I know you and it’s what you told me when Sid was hurt. He’s young. He’ll play again soon.”

“But I just…” Ilya moved away from the open door. “…don’t know what to do.” He tried to keep his voice down but the frustration came through loud and clear.

“Dim lights. Keep curtains closed. Speak softly. Read to him. No terrible Russian poetry. Serious books. Soft music. Sing. Sid liked the Russian lullabies best.”

“You sang Russian lullabies to Sidney Crosby?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even sing on-key.”

“He thinks that’s how the song is. Oh, expect temper tantrums. Especially if setback.”

“But there won’t be any setbacks, right?”

“Is concussion, who knows for sure?”

“You are terrible at this.

“And you are better at it than you believe. Now, go help your friend get better.”

“Thanks, Zhenya.”

Ilya hung up the phone and moved to stand outside Vladimir’s door, humming a tune that he remembers from his childhood. He didn’t know if it would work, but it was worth a shot.


End file.
